


The Warprize Roman

by ghostdreaming



Series: The God of Cunoval Wood [1]
Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011), The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: A non-con kiss, Aftermath of Battle really, All Inaccuracies I Will Blame On AUness, All The Societies Might End Up Gender-Equal?, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Ancient Gods/ Extraterrestrial Beings, Based on Kink Meme Prompts, Battle Wounds ( Marcus' Leg), Bottom Marcus, Cub Is A Cute Little Orphaned Puppy!, Cultures Where Gay Sex Is Overwhelmingly Predominant, Esca's A God, Implied Threats of Mutilation- including Castration, In Both its Good and Its Bad, Invasion and Battle, M/M, Magical Creatures, Marcus Whump, Mentions of Cruel Historical Acts of Violence, Most Threats Are The Seal Prince Mouthing Off!, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Not As Dark As That Sounds, Not Beta Read, Pagan Gods, Prisoner of War, Re-Posted To Change Posting Date, Roman Britain, Roman Slavery, Sacrificial Offering Marcus, Semi- Graphic Violence, Slave Marcus, The Britains ( Picts/Celts/Excetra) Win, The British Tribes Are Gender-Equal, The Romans Aren't The More Advanced People Like They Thought They Were, The Seal People are Selkies, Thoughts Of Kinky Sex, Threats of Forced Feminization And Other Emasculations Including Ways to Induse Mock(?) Male Preg, Threats of Forced Gangbang/ Forced Continuous Sexual Sevicing of Multiple Numbers of Peoples, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence, War Prize, magical beings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:58:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostdreaming/pseuds/ghostdreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was inspired by some prompts on the_eagle kink meme. The first were for the Romans loosing and Marcus taken as a slave. The others were for Esca to be some sort of god or mythical creature.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by some prompts on the_eagle kink meme. The first were for the Romans loosing and Marcus taken as a slave. The others were for Esca to be some sort of god or mythical creature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! Another Fandom! What am I doing? * Throws pitiful offering and runs away*

The tribes of the cold, dark, far-off, collection of ocean drenched islands had seemed so unqualified and without any real provisions beyond the most pathetic base needs for survival to the invading Romans. Nothing but simple and weak backward peoples that would be easy to subdue. Things hadn't been entirely as they had first appeared though. Something that the foothold army arriving from far across the eastern sitting continent had ended up learning the hard way.

The fort had fought hard. Having been raised up like a declaration of occupation deep in the contested territories beyond the range of accessible assistance it was the very personification of stubborn insistence on possessing the ground. Holding up against its retallitating attackers better than the distant command authorities had any real right to have expected. But still it finally fell.

The bedchamber door was busted open with savage force like by creatures too brutal to comprehend or care that the simple act of mearly unlatching the barrier would have been equally effective and less pointlessly destructive.

The commotion outside increased.

There were booming voices. And hands- cruel, hard, and painful latching on. Worse even than those that had held him down before to stroke up the fire that consumed his leg. Bedcovers were yanked away letting the freezing air join the attack. He fought. He was a Roman, a soldier, a Centurion. He would not could not yeld! At lest he tried. But it was like being underwater...was he underwater? Everything was muffled, slowed, muddy dark. The only thing clear was the ripping flashes of agony that never ceased. But he knew he was struggling. If not with the might and skill of a true Roman Centurion then like the dying of an injured ox, as it was savaged to death in a coliseum, torn to pieces by vicious half-starved predators. Air wasn't the only cold sting to join in the attack. A hard line of sharp edge was soon pressed eagerly under his chin halting his thrashing, pushing his head helplessly back and pressing it all the way down into the bedding to best expose the entire length of his neck in the most vulnerable manner, while another glided over his lower belly moving deliberately downward where the grasping claws that held him pinned were working to spread him further against the counter motions of his instinctive efforts to wrench away. The world was dimming even further around the edges.

A sharp command harsh and authoritive put an end to the threatening movements. 

The only sounds were of harsh heavy breathing. The bellows-pump huffing of his own lungs ringing loudest of all.

The one of the ones that surrounded him snarled out something harsh and angry.

The one with authority spat back.

More was exchanged while Marcus was able to do little more than lay there as motionless as possible beneith the pressure of the blades, settled nearly slicing into  vital places of sensitive flesh, and mentally flounder around scrabbling desperately at flitting consciousness. He needed... He couldn't..... He was about to die. Better to die with his honor intact in one last attempt to fight rather than-.

A touch traced his jaw brushing over his mouth analyzing and directing the others lines of attentions. The angry voice said something speculative.

The authoritive one, now more than a little angry as well, replied dismissively.

Fingers swept over heaving chest and belly, that trembled even though he was trying to suppress the reaction, a lewd coldness in the gesture that spoke for itself.

As did the next movement. Which was a vile hand on the inseam of Marcus' imprisoned thigh making an sliding motion down and back indicating the hidden recesses behind his manhood making his skin crawl in even greater revulsion with the profaine filth of it... 

More jabbered jeering. Laughter low and dark with promised cruelty.

A snapped bark unyielding and followed by biting commands.

Cowed shuffling answered obediently. The press of hands and blades evaporated leaving his body free to curl in on itself. The churning of his stomach moving in time with the dots before his eyes that had become tiny hot needles piercing into his scull. Oblivion called and he welcomed it.

A startled sound and whimpering rose from under the bed.

His last fading thought was regret for having tried to rescue the pup. It would have been better if he had simply put the poor thing out of its misery on finding him instead of leaving the little creature to be cruelly destroyed at the hands of his murderers.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course Marcus isn't dead. Naturally the two main voices he overheard belonged to the Seal Prince(Does he have a name?) and Esca.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! Kudos and some really awesome feedback! Thank You! :)  
> This part is Esca's side of things! I'm also totally going to use the fact that Marcus is ill and injured as the excuse as to why what he heard seems shorter than what is written here. And, as much as I love the book versions of them too, I am using the movie versions of the descriptions of Marcus and Esca in this. Oh, and the Seal Prince's name is Lithian.  
> WARNING: Here we get to the Semi-Graphic Violence... or actually maybe it should have been labeled 'Semi-Graphic References To Sex and Strong Violence'. There is a rather blunt mention of some of the resulting fatal injuries that would likely be realistically caused if someone was in all actual fact fucked to death ( or so I assume).These are not in depth detailed descriptions (I didn't want to squick myself out) but the damage involved is stated. And there's an accusation of necrophilia used as an insult.

Energy crackled over the battle-site. Booming thunder that crashed across sun-lite sky in celestial echo of the now faded din of war clashing. Sending residue tremors quaking through the timber and stone constructions of the small Roman fort that stood beaten and defeated, amidst a encircling field of broken and shattered bodies partially sunk in a squelching mire of cold churned-up mud mixed with offal and lifeblood. Smoke still rose from the fort's distress signal calling for aid from a place that the Romans of this fortification had not known had already been lost to them even before they themselves were attacked. The reenforcements that had arrived at the contestment had therefore not been sided with those of Rome. The stronghold that the Romans re-named Isca Dumnoniorum wasn't given the time to discover that their missing supply shipment was the result of the lands below their position now being back under British control. The mad druid who had first lead the attack had been killed but that had not mattered when the new wave of warriors had arrived bringing greater numbers and the power of the god-like creature with them into the fray.

Esca angrily made his way through the confusion snapping out reprimands and the occasional blow to those too battle-crazed to see anything beyond their blood-lust. He'd had dealings with many beings during his time on this planet. As allies. As enemies. As friends...The selkie tribe were allies. Dispite how their antics at the present had him half inclined to toss this group to the black-and-white sea-wolves and be done with them. The entire force of eager young warriors had tried to desolve into a flood of mindless vicious cruelty once past the, now broken, timber gates of the Roman conquest and at the cornered occupants in the inner compound beyond. Now stomping across the muck in their wake, in the manner of a herder that had too long been dealing with a batch of overly troublesome cattle, he was weary of it all. The land did not need to be soaked with anymore pain, fear, hatred, and death than life's usual excesses produced. They did not need all the delays on their journey. Wasting time and energy, that they could be using to get themselves north sooner, on violent revelry. Patches of more Roman habitations still littered the path ahead and would therefore need to be dealt with as well as other dangers. Sweeping the lands again clear of persistent Roman occupiers would be no easier this time around than it had been the last times those invaders had washed over the islands in an devistating flood of distruction eagerly consuming all before them.

Not one to ever hide his dark moods he let all he passed by witness the thunderclouds emassed in his eyes.

 A fearfully choked out " _Jupiter preserve us!'_   directed Esca's ire onto a new target. Singling out the speaker from the nearest collection of newly captured foes he advanced. The Roman instinctively backed away pressing up against the whitewashed side of a building in panic. The rest of the surrounding crowd, allies and prisoners both, had also shied away from his path as he stalked in close to hiss contemptuously in the unfortunate fool's sweating face. "That name has no welcome here. The bearers of it have all only ever earned my loathing." When no response to that came, at least none for him to contend with, giving a final contemptuous huff he then turned leaving the repulsive creature were the wretch stood, and who abruptly now stank even worse than ever, so not to kill the worthless thing out of hand. 

Once far enough he allowed two more bolts of the penned-up energy crash down, around, and through his physical form pooling in the weapons he wore that were designed for holding that power. He had no time for this. The call of home was painful now and his patience with the too easily distracted selkie youths was running dry....

In his wake victors and defeated alike cowed in mutual dazement, surrounded by air that still sparked and brought forth the taste of metal, as he, now even more tired and unhappy, stormed his way into the fallen enemy's barracks trailing the messy path of distruction caused by the Seal Chief's oldest son.

The troublesome beast as it turned out had discovered a wounded centorian in which to play with.  The same fort commander who had reportedly kept the tribes from victory the previous day. A centorian who was now helpless and defenselessly at their mercy. They were busy enthusiasticly debating on cutting off, or out, trophies for themselves as he entered. 

Many of those who had been deemed as gods, or had appointed themselves to the position, would have taken strength and pleasure at the evident fate intended for this stand-in for those who sought to set themselves up as superiors over the peoples who already had long occupied these lands by tormenting the already fallen. For Esca though it gave no joy. It left only ash in his mouth and throat and a weight in his chest as strongly as the memory of the powdered sooty desecrated remains of his woods. Vengeance so far had only added to his torment and had yet to do much to sooth any of the pains. His soul longed to find some healing balm for its aches- but there was none.

"Stop that." They paused, startled at the sharp reproach, but remained poised over the target not willing to abandon their entertaiment. He was not on of their worshiped gods but a creature known and respected that they had turned to for aid in times of mutual need.

"Why should we?" The obnoxious pup bristled with pride and defiance still charged with the fever of battle. his scowl and thickly caked-on grey-blue body paint adding years and maturity to his vistage. The warrior who'd been voicing an eagerness to harvest the Roman's reproductive organs wore the expression of a small disappointed child.

Like this they reminded him far to closely of the hateful sneering Roman crowd that had bayed to watch his lifeblood spill onto the churned and stained sands of their 'arena'.

" I lay claim on this one." The words were spoken before he knew he intended to say them and was therefore left unable to take them back.

" This one? After having only ever refused to claim any prize before?" Lithian's disbelief was tangible but Esca ignored the questioning as well as the eyes of the selkie man as he begin almost absently fingering the knotted loops of twisted strips of cord and leather wrapped around his wrist to pluck one free.  

"It is my right." Though in truth he had not the least need to have a Roman. He didn't know what he would do with even having one since they were of no use at all to him.-

The object of their discussion continued to lay there, held down, every bit the image of a prize offering being presented for the taking. The Roman was a large man one who would stand significantly taller in stature than Esca if they were to both stand upright directly beside one another. With a broad chest and shoulders, and long limbs, that were swelled with muscles which flowed in the ripples and long thick lines of the fluid strength of well-balanced mass like that found in a superbly built horse or bull. A prize stud animal as impressive as any ever seen... His flesh was warm dark honey that glowed tantalizingly against the pale cotton and plush dark furs. All of that together invited pushing that magnificence down into those hides and be made to be squirming and panting at Esca's mercy for entirely different reasons. He was-  

Of no interest to Esca.

There was also the too heavy scent of the enemy soldier's blood and pain, the bandages on his right thigh had loosened in the joltment allowing the wounds to re-open and saturate their surroundings with leaking blood, as well as an unpleasant additional cloying edge that indicated something had already begum to putrefy, filling the air of the room along with the sharp prickly stench of numerous sweating mammals crowded together in a small space. Esca was not a creature that held cravings for human blood. (Nor did he find the smell of overheated seal pleasant.)  

But most hateful of all was the dumb, glazed, wide eyes of a wounded fawn or calf. The enemy, an enemy soldier no less, had no right to appear that....enraging. A wounded creature needed to be either put out of its misery with a quick death or nursed back to health. Having himself already been sentenced to a slow lonely death living out the remainders of his existence on that insolated planet made him disinclined to the thought of prolonging another's pain. Causing additional pain served no useful purpose, or displayed any impressiveness in skill, therefor the practice of doing so was wasteful. Esca was not wasteful. There were many reasons for which to kill. Weither it was to obtain meat for nourishment or elimination of threats and rivals it was another's removal from life that was the desired outcome- keeping them alive delayed this goal. When he killed he always killed quickly and efficiently in need of the results. 

His charge had other thoughts on his motivations.

" He is well formed. Strong body for rougher enjoyments. Soft lips. Soft skin. They like to oil themselves I've heard." Their prisoner tried to shy away from the hold on his jaw but was too weak and it only resulted in a larger smear of grey-blue coloration being painted across the curve of his unflawed chin. "They try to bully their way to conquest in war even as they pamper their bodies like kept whores ready for pleasuring."   

" They are a southern people not bred for our cold. They would need the oil to help against damage from the wind." The boy well knew how unfavorable the elements could be even to those bred to a place.

"The pleasing ones such as this would do better to use it to fight inner cafeing. He would be kept warm for as long as he can keep them lined up to join him on his pallet and bestowing him their heat when sating themselves. He would need such as it to survive when trying and keep his insides whole. Or at least as long as still possible to prevent unending usages from tearing apart his guts and pummeling his insides to mash." There was a wild dark glint to the prince's eyes and a cruel hungry sound in that tone. " I would find it very pleasing the sight of this Roman forcing himself to desperately grovel and beg for further debasementations. Struggling to throw himself on the impalement of another flesh spear at the same time as fighting uselessly against their continuation of ripping him ever further open with their rutting might." Contrary to the prince's words his mouth was twisted in a expression of having just eaten something he found distasteful and the hand gliding down the cornered prey's shuddering body was the callus unattached touch of a slave trader presenting and demonstrating the highlights of the wares. It was the rest of the warriors gathered around their victim that appeared set to fall upon and begin devouring this succulent meal. Some were even salivating. The prize continued that fretful twitching and twisting against the holds they had on him either too ill or too stupid to understand that in moving like that he was only endangering himself more from both the blades pinning him down and the eager ring of conquers who were having their lusts enflamed higher by the combination of those words and his thrashing. Muffled whimpering from the bed brought only the sensation of rising bile to add to Esca's disgust.

" Not with this one. Were you heat-rut obsessed younglings to have him he'd be dead within moments. His leg wound would kill him before you did much of anything-unless you enjoy mating with corpses that much." Some of them flinched back from his narrowed glare or blinked at him in startlement. Others started to rumble as if to try and challenge only to settle for disappointed sullenness when they were unable to overcome his gaze. The majority of the ring gathered around the bed and the seal prince respectfully backed further away. The heir to the tribe was the only one that dared risk angering him by continuing on. The future selkie chief was thoughtlessly reckless at times but never a coward.

Narrow fingers clamped down over the larger, more youthfully supple, hand moving to invade between the prize's thighs. "Enough."

"He is yours." The younger man acknowledged with ease. " A good sacrifice. If he survives his injury I look foreword to watching it and what you do to him after. A man born a Roman will more likely not have had the experience of having another inside of him. He will be as tightly small and softly new as can be gotten. Yours will be the first hard, heated, lengthy, weight pummeling his center. He will be  _your_ sheath. Your trophy to parade around on display ran through with and jabbed onto your spear!  _He_ will be kept as a broodmare always gushing and bloated to bursting with endlessly deposited loads of your spent pleasures!" The youngling's cursedly alluring words were painting images in Esca's mind that he did not want in there clouding up his thinking with urges that were always kept restrained and un-acted upon. Never before had he felt this hunger- and for a hated enemy. Visions of the Roman and how he would look when laboriously striving to take one into his body like it was essentially a reversed birthing with Esca making the man ever fuller and more impregnated as that well crafted body was made to insheathe everything put to it and house all that the Briton desired to see inhabiting and shaping those spaces within. The only explanation Esca had for that new and different craving (that saw him whishing to domesticate and train that one particular centurian into accepting being bridled, mounted, and obedient following his rider's every command) was that going too long without inclination to share his body with another had added unreal potency to Lithian's continued words. "He will be the pet to cower at our feet. We will be the ones who will be doing the beatings! _He will be the one put in the dresses of the most disgraceful and played with as a pleasure-toy girl !"_   Even with young warrior keeping his voice a near whisper his words were clear to those standing near. One of the female warriors, who bore enough of a resemblance to the prince as to show a close blood relation, had started to make a motion in retaliation to that mention of female playthings but stopped herself, her expression going from irritated to worried and compassionate, when she noticed the spooked wildness that that widened her kinsman's eyes. If any of them had doubted the nature of the threats once made to the boy a season ago while trapped by Roman soldiers they now knew for certain.  

"We are not them. We are better than that."

The ice in the eyes of the frightened boy shimmered a little then disappeared from view and the selkie warrior gave a nod.

"And this Roman may not be a virgin." A voice from the back of the group, and therefore one for whom the prince's moment of weakness had gone unnoticed, spoke up before tossing his find to Esca. "These were placed on his alter."

Setting aside the length he'd been refashioning to catch the offering mid-air he found it was a strung together series of small tokens. Each about the size of a oblong and slightly flattened berry. Three were old and worn, with nicks and scatches marring the depictions, their metals stained dark in the grooves. One bore a symbol representing Hercules and Iolaus. Another had the symbol that had belonged to the alliance formed over a millennia ago by Troad, Sparta, Ithaca, Thessalia, and other ancient kingdoms inorder to fight back against the Olympian rulers( and the gods plans for those kingdoms' devistations) on one side and the other had a symbol for Achilles and Patroclus. The third displayed the mark of Alexandros (the great emperor, who's victoriousness the Roman rulers keep trying to emulate, that conquered the entirety of the world and then continued on) and Hephaistion. The last was reveled as not only newly created but also to be Britonic decorated with a signal for The Once and Future High King and Emrys. It was a good possibility that the Roman, and also the caster of the charm, did not in truth know the identities referred to on that last one. They all shared the same common theme in that they all indicated famous pairs of powerful mated warriors.  

Esca bounced them in his palm thoughtfully then tucked the mementos into his pouch and going back to working the piece of string. His captive might have a lover. It was possible that he had many. As well as a wife and children. An entire home and family waiting for him back in their beloved Rome.

 And if Esca discards his claim on him the man would never get the opportunity to try and get back to all of those again for he would be dead. "Of no matter. He is mine now."  Finishing the last new knots in his cord he drew his small knife. The smooth wooden handle, that was now the only surviving piece of Conoval he possessed, soothing and comfortable in the palm of his right hand as he used the tip of the blade to prick the softer skin on the inside of his own left forearm. Several beads of blood welled forth for him to carefully drag the knotted tie across. "The wounded and the dead need tending." Sheathing the knife he moved in closer to his new acquisition bending over the Roman inorder to fasten the marker securely. After which he set to tending the wound using more of the bedding to staunch the bleeding. Up close the darker man's sent held traces of something fresh and tangy underneath the unpleasant overlays. The selkies let go obediently releasing  his property.

"You think to stay here and make camp." It was not a question Lithian knew he had heard correctly.

 " That will give the other places in our path more time to prepare!" The sister?- No cousin protested causing stirrings of agitation to ripple through the ranks.

"There is one of their gods residing in the next Roman town." Their leader reminded, as if he thought that had somehow been forgotten, shoving in against a crouched  Esca's side to crowd against him and taking advantage of his more elevated position in blatantly domineering posturing.  

Only to have Esca push back against the invasion of personal space refusing to submit to the pressure." If it fights me I will kill it."

The Seal Prince growled reaching down and roughly fisting a handful of short light bronze hair wanting Esca to yield. "I am Leader here!" But in his instinct to fight a perceived challenge to his authority he'd forgotten that the other man was not one that he could master.

His head tilted up, Esca let his eyes warn the selkie that a forbidden line was about to be crossed. The grip on his head was eased obligingly. Though he never demanded others worshipping him, and honestly insisted they not do so, Esca's retaliations for mistreatment were wisely feared. He understood that Lithian felt he had need to assert his position so as not to lessen the stability of his leadership. But Esca was an ally not an underling. "You are the leader. Lead now by controlling your forces and prevent them from destroying what we need of this place." Esca glanced over at the figure now curled in a feeble ball, only the barest bit aware yet and still making those soft noises of distress, in the middle of the narrow cot. " I will require the assistance of a healer here. And another bed."

One of the onlookers made a  low comment about a bigger bed which was received with lust-minded chuckling.

Lithian huffed. "So be it then." Before leaning down and briefly catching Esca's mouth with his own in a quick hard kiss. Esca didn't bother reacting keeping his lips unyealding and inaccessible as he endured the wet swipe of a warm tongue prodding the closed barrier. He owed the man this as payment for the damage to the  pride of the still sensitively new command. The prince was merely doing it to demonstrate to his subordinates that he didn't fear the power of the 'god' and humored the requests being made of him out of fondness. And because like all youths he had that reckless need to push boundaries.

Scrubbing away the resulting taint of old fish oil needed to wait till after the selkies had left him alone again.  

Pulling away with a wide victorious grin the black-haired man begain issuing the necessary orders.

Until surprise silenced him as Esca's focus was whipped back to the bed.  

The tiny whimperings had changed into a high squeaked note that was being drawn out and held. Now leaving no mistake that the motionless Roman was not the one making them.

Reexamining the sight before him, in search of the real source, it was now plainly clear to the eye that the disturbed bedding was partially displaced underneath the cot. As when caught on and thrown over something that had been hastily hidden.

Esca went down on his hands and knees inoder to take a look. Spotting the box that was down there instantly and tugging it out into the open. Taking in the very unexpected sight of thick padding of piled rags that lined the interior of the wooden frame. And that in the middle of which was a small ball of grey fur that gazed up at them with eyes that must have only recently begun being open so as to be able to look out at the world around.

A wolf pup. The Roman had been nurturing a orphan from the wild. There was no dog smell to the cub's natural sent only infant wolf. As well as trace residues of milk and contact with the man. Something in Esca's chest clenched at the realization. Blankly scooping up the puppy in answer to the creature's need of comforting, as he worked on the realization that he now had two in his care in need of tending, he sat back making himself comfortable as he could, while continuing to keep pressure on the centurion's injury with one hand and holding the cub to his breast with the other, on the wooden flooring of the hideously fashioned room as best he could. " Bring me a nanny goat as well."  

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The black-and-white sea wolves mentioned referred to Orcas( Killer Whales).  
> Jupiter is the Roman name for the god that the Greeks called Zeus. Or in this reality's case- one of the names repeatedly taken on by successive series' of beings that have set themselves up as gods.  
> I still don't know if the Seal Prince meant actual male-preg or cum inflation (either way works for me....actually 'both' would work for me).  
> Troy was the capital of the kingdom of Troad. The Trojan War was a very different event in this reality. Hercules & Iolaus- most probably not cousins. Same for Achilles & Patroclus.  
> Alexander The Great really managed to get the whole entire world here...and then had to go get himself a next goal. More importantly he didn't loose Hephaistion.  
> The Once And Future High King is King Arthur. I like having Emrys (Merlin) be in the same age group as him. And I'm twisting/warping timelines with that yes.  
> I have the vague outlines for the next parts of this already. One with Esca getting Marcus to live and bringing up the lost eagle. Another with Esca coming back from killing another god and Marcus making discoveries about the nature of the one he is slave to. And one with our first taste of some Esca/Marcus smut ( that might turn out to have been a dream/premonition thing though). Plus something( that's certainly going to include manhandling, struggling, and forced cuddling{?}) with Esca putting the suffering Roman in his bed to save the poor bastard from the cold.....  
> Now I have to go cool down- maybe throwing myself in a snowbank will hopefully do it....

**Author's Note:**

> Of course Marcus isn't dead. He's also not very coherent here because of his injury. The two main voices he heard were the Seal Prince and Esca ( naturally).


End file.
